


Prodigy

by tahirire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, Humor, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-26
Updated: 2010-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <span><a href="http://spnquotefic.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://spnquotefic.livejournal.com/"><b>spnquotefic</b></a></span>  meme # 2, Wendigo. <em>Sam: "The man can barely work a toaster, Dean."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Prodigy

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is lovingly dedicated to my Mom, who for years thought that if you minimized AOL, it meant that you were no longer online. :)

It's been _hours_ , and Sam's jaw is clenched so tight at this point that Dean thinks his teeth are gonna fuse together.

"Because if I do it _that way_ , they can trace it back to us," Sam is grinding out, damn near sweating from the effort of being so stubbornly patient.

Dean leans against the doorjamb, cradling his cup of coffee and wondering how much longer his brother is going to last.

Dad's got that vein threatening to pop out of his forehead. Dean has seen him less tense right before diving into a nest of Harpies, and the tension in the air is so thick Dean isn't sure he can even push into the room.

He wants so, so bad to make a joke and watch them both explode.

Dad frowns, pointing at the screen of 'Sam's' new laptop. "Then just make a fake account."

Sam's eyes glaze over with frustration. "I _can't_. It will _still track back here_."

"Don't take that tone with -"

Dean sighs. So much for free entertainment. He knocks on the door and both of them nearly jump out of their skin. "Oh yeah. You two are protectin' this room from all _kinds_ of evil," he snarks, pointing at the swinging door chain. "I've been standing here for five. Come eat lunch already."

He gestures to the fast food bags on the table and shoots Sam his biggest, most obnoxious grin. "Got you your salad, Princess."

Dad hesitates like he can't decide if food is really more important than ripping his exasperated son yet another new one, but Sam looks up at him with something like hope for a truce in his eyes, and Dad relents.

"Sure, come on. We need a break anyway."

The _ohthankgod_ radiating off of Sam is so loud, Dean is pretty sure they heard it in the next county.

Dean feels them all relax over lunch. He even gets Dad to tell a great story about one of his old war buddies, and Sam actually laughs instead of rolling his eyes. They've got witnesses to interview this afternoon, so the rest of the day should be smooth sailing.

Sam is helping Dean pack their gear when from behind them Dad says, "Sam, when we get back I want you to teach me how to use that computer mail."

Sam's body goes rigid. Dean suppresses a groan.

It's gonna be a long night.


End file.
